


Nursery School Hell Germs

by sahiya



Series: IronFam post-Endgame Cuddle Fic [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, But none of the bad stuff happened, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Everyone Gets A Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 04:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18684544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: Peter and Tony find out what anyone who is related to a small child knows: that the germs they bring home from preschool are THE WORST.





	Nursery School Hell Germs

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Fuzzyboo for beta reading!
> 
> Still haven't seen _Endgame_ , which has not stopped me from stealing 1) the lakehouse and 2) Morgan Stark for this fic. But none of the rest of it happened. *waves hands*

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying. _I’m_ dying.”

“Fine, we’re both dying, and it’s all your fault.”

“Don’t blame me, blame Pepper,” Tony muttered, shoving his face into a pillow. “She’s the one who decided Morgan needed to go to preschool. _She needs to learn how to interact with her peers. She can’t just talk to adults all the time._ Nevermind that she’s reading at a second grade level and learning her multiplication tables.”

Peter had heard this entire argument in real time. He made his usual _mmhm_ noise, since the truth was that he thought Pepper was probably right about this, and Morgan _did_ need to learn how to get along with kids her own age. She was startlingly verbal and expressive, but it was good for her to spend some time being her actual age. Or so Peter thought. 

Tony was still grumbling. “Goddamn school is a festering petri dish. This is the third horrible bug she’s brought home. She bounces back in three days, and I’m down for two weeks.”

Peter groaned, trying to get comfortable. The fold-out sofa in the living room at the lakehouse was undoubtedly the best that money could buy, but he ached all over. “God, I hope this doesn’t last two weeks. I was really looking forward to my break.”

“Your strapping young immune system will take care of it,” Tony said, flapping a hand in his direction. “Us old farts, on the other hand...”

“Stop it, you’re not––” An alarm went off, interrupting Peter. “What’s that?”

“Hydration and antibiotics, boss,” FRIDAY said. 

“Shit,” Tony groaned. “One of us has to get up. I’ll give you a million dollars if you do it.”

“I dunno if it’s worth it,” Peter said, but he sat up anyway. He had to wait for a wave of dizziness to pass, but then he managed to get to his feet, clinging to the back of the sofa. 

“Whoa, kid, are you okay?” Tony asked, sitting up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just... dizzy,” Peter muttered. “When’s Pepper getting back?”

“Not for a few hours,” Tony said. “Lie back down, I can do it.”

“I’m okay,” Peter said, even though he was starting to feel like maybe he wasn’t. His knees buckled and he stumbled, half-falling back onto the bed. “Whoa,” he said, as everything tilted dizzily around him. 

“Jeez, Pete, just lie still, all right?”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. Tony was leaning over him, frowning worriedly. He put a hand on Peter’s forehead. “I feel really gross.”

“I know, kiddo,” Tony said. “Strep throat will do that. You want some tea?”

“Only if you feel okay to make it,” Peter said, since it would involve standing in the kitchen, and Peter had just proven he wasn’t up to it himself. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Tony slid off the bed, grabbed his bathrobe off the back of a chair, and shuffled into the kitchen. 

Peter rolled onto his side and looked out the giant picture windows onto the lake. It’d snowed the night before, but with rain threatening in the afternoon, it wouldn’t last. It didn’t look like they’d have much of a snowy Christmas, but Peter wasn’t complaining. After everything, he was just grateful that they were all going to be here, in one place, and that everyone would be _mostly_ healthy.

He must have zoned out, because the next thing he knew, Tony was setting a tray on the bed. The tray had two mugs of tea, two bottles of water, two prescription pill bottles, a giant container of Advil, and two dishes of applesauce. 

Tony sighed with relief as he lay back down. Peter couldn’t help noticing that he was kind of pale and sweaty. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Lightheaded,” Tony mumbled. 

Peter made a noise of sympathy. He sat up slowly, leaning against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. He took his antibiotics, and then started scrolling through the streaming offerings. That had been their original reason for camping out in the living room: none of the bedrooms had TVs in them, to prevent Morgan from getting more screen time than was good for her. The idea of Tony Stark deliberately limiting the number of screens in his house still boggled Peter’s mind.

“ _Parks and Rec_ okay?” Peter asked. 

“Whatever you want,” Tony said without opening his eyes. 

Peter frowned. He put on the camping episode and turned the volume way down. “You need to take your antibiotics and drink some water or tea,” he told Tony. 

“I know, just... need a minute.” 

Peter picked up the tray and moved it so that there was room for him to slide over. The bed was only partially made up, just the bottom sheet and a haphazard pile of blankets and pillows. Tony had collapsed mostly on top of them. Peter grabbed one of the blankets and hauled it up and over Tony’s shoulders. Then he prodded Tony into sitting up a little more, half against one of the pillows and half against Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter offered him the mug of tea, but Tony shook his head. “Hands are shaking,” he muttered. Peter uncapped the water bottle and handed that to him instead, along with his dose of antibiotics. 

“Pepper’s not getting back for a few hours?” Peter asked. This really wasn’t a great situation, with both of them basically too sick to get out of bed. He was feeling a little better now, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to stand up again.

“She has meetings all day in the city. She’ll pick up Morgan once she’s done.” Tony sipped his water. “I think I can try the tea.” Peter handed it to him, and he wrapped his hands around it solidly. “Why?” he asked, after his first sip. “Do you need something?”

“No,” Peter said. “It’s just... I don’t know. I don’t like this. Makes me feel...”

“Anxious?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said, though the word he’d been thinking was _vulnerable_. 

Tony patted him on the leg. “It’s okay, kid. If push came to shove, I’d call a suit. They do most of the work anyway.”

Peter side-eyed him. “I thought your suits were strictly recreational.”

Tony snorted. “If you think I don’t have a way of protecting my wife and kids, then you don’t know me at all.”

Peter felt his ears warm. “Kids, huh?”

“Yeah, kids,” Tony said, looking up at him. “I hope that isn’t a surprise at this stage.”

“No,” Peter said. He leaned into Tony. “I don’t mind hearing it, though.”

Tony smiled at him. “Noted.”

The rain started coming down about the time they finished their tea. Tony had FRIDAY start a fire in the fireplace, and Peter added an extra blanket to his pile. Tony fell asleep after that, but Peter found himself unable to settle. It should have been cozy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being unprotected. It wasn’t his spidey sense going off, he was pretty sure; it was just feeling sick and weak combined with the weather and the isolation of the house.

His head started aching, and then he started shivering and couldn’t stop, even after he wrapped himself in a third blanket. His eyes were kind of hot. He felt... weird.

An alarm on his phone went off. He didn’t remember setting one, but then he realized it was the app linked to the biometrics tracker in his watch. “Peter, your temperature is a hundred and four degrees,” FRIDAY informed him quietly. “You should seek medical attention immediately.”

Well, that wasn’t good. No wonder he felt so strange. 

Tony hadn’t stirred even at the alarm, but Peter was starting to feel freak out. “Tony,” Peter said, shaking his shoulder. “Tony, can you––can you wake up? Sorry, sorry,” he added guiltily, as Tony groaned.

“What’s wrong, Pete?” Tony asked groggily.

“Um,” Peter said. “Do you think Pepper might be back soon?”

“She should be, why?” Tony reached for his phone. “Wait, she texted––she said the storm is supposed to get worse before it gets better, and she and Morgan are going to eat dinner in the city and come up later tonight or tomorrow morning. Why?”

“I, um.” Peter swallowed, and it hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes. “Is it normal for a fever to go up if you’re on antibiotics?”

Tony sat up in a hurry. “What? No. What’s going on?”

“I was feeling really strange, and then FRIDAY told me my temperature was over a hundred and four degrees. I––I don’t know why that would happen, but I feel really bad, and I just... I just wish Pepper was here, that’s all,” he finished in a small voice. 

“Ah, kid,” Tony said, reaching out to rest his hand between Peter’s shoulder blades. “Your physiology is idiosyncratic. Bruce thought the antibiotics would work, but maybe they don’t for you. But I wouldn’t worry too much––your immune system is strong, nursery school hell germs notwithstanding.”

Peter pulled the blankets up to his chin, still shivering. “I’ve never had a fever this high before, though. Not since the bite, and I don’t remember having one this high before the bite, either.”

Tony shrugged. “Maybe your immune system is freaked out and trying to burn the strep out of your system.”

Peter gave him a look. “You’re just making stuff up, aren’t you?”

“Pulling it right out of my ass,” Tony admitted. “But I promise you, I got this. I’ve taken care of Morgan when she was sick, it’s not that different.”

“But you’re sick, too,” Peter said, unable to help his fretful tone. “You could barely stand up earlier. You almost passed out!”

Tony sighed. “Well, you’re not wrong, but I’m feeling a little better now. I’m going to have FRIDAY run you a bath, all right? Lukewarm, not hot. And while you’re doing that, I’m going to call Bruce and see what he says. We can’t send him bloodwork, but I can send him over all the data from your tracker.”

“Okay,” Peter sniffled. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tony; he trusted Tony to always take care of him the best he could. It was just that in this case, neither of them was really in any kind of shape to be taking care of someone else. But they were just going to have to muddle through, Peter decided with a sigh. He couldn’t keep whining for Pepper. 

Peter took one of the blankets with him, wrapped around his shoulders, but he was still wracked with chills by the time he got to the ensuite off his bedroom. “FRIDAY, can you turn the heat up? It’s freezing in here.”

“The ambient temperature is quite warm, Peter,” she replied. “Your fever is making you feel as though it is cold.”

“I guess.” Peter reluctantly dropped his blanket and stripped down. His feet hit the water, and he almost yelped. “FRIDAY! That’s really cold.”

“It is lukewarm, as boss requested.”

Peter winced as he slid in. It felt much colder than lukewarm. “I hate this,” he muttered miserably. “FRIDAY, what’s Tony’s temperature?”

“Boss’s temperature has been steadily decreasing all afternoon. It was nearly a hundred and three this morning, before his first dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen, but it is currently 101.8.”

That at least leant some credence to Tony’s claim that he was feeling better. Not that Peter felt like he had a lot of choice but to trust him. 

He was still shivering in the bath when he heard Tony enter the bedroom, just beyond bathroom door. Peter could tell from his tone that he was talking to Pepper before he even heard what he saying. “We’ll be okay even if you don’t make it back,” Peter heard him say. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better, aside from the sore throat, I think I can manage it.” He opened the door to the bathroom. “No, yeah––whoa, hey,” Tony interrupted himself, catching sight of Peter. “You are shaking like a leaf, kid. FRIDAY, add some warm water to that tub, it’s counterproductive for him to be shivering like that. And take Pep to speaker, will you?”

Tony set his phone down on the counter. Peter felt the jets on the side of the tub open and emit a flood of warmer water. Muscles that had been tense and shivering relaxed immediately. He sank back against the side of the tub. “Better?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said, closing his eyes in relief.

Tony lifted Peter’s head and slipped a folded up towel, warm from the rack, beneath it. Then he sat down on the side of the tub, leaning against the wall. “Sorry, Pep. Peter, say hi to Pepper.”

“Hi Pepper,” Peter said weakly. 

“Oh, Peter, you sound terrible.”

“I feel terrible,” he admitted. “Do––do you think you’ll make it back tonight?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” she replied. “By the time the storm lets up, it’ll be past Morgan’s bedtime, and she’s started not sleeping on flights the last couple of months. But it sounds like Tony is feeling better.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, glancing at Tony. “But his fever is still almost a hundred and two degrees.”

“Is it now,” Pepper said flatly. “Tony. You said you were, and I quote, ‘basically back to normal.’” 

“It’s about 101.5,” Tony protested. “That’s not almost a hundred and two.”

“101.8, according to FRIDAY,” Peter countered.

Pepper sighed. “Anyway you slice it, that is definitely not normal. I’m going to try and make it back tonight, but we have to see what the weather does and what kind of mood Morgan is in. I’ll let you know, all right?”

“Okay,” Tony said. “Love you, Pep.”

“Love you both. Take care of each other.” Pepper disconnected. 

The bathroom was silent for a few moments, aside from the lapping of the water against the side of the tub. Tony was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, Peter realized, glancing up at him. He definitely didn’t _look_ like he was feeling a lot better. 

“Did you get ahold of Bruce?” Peter asked at last.

Tony opened his eyes. “Yeah. He thinks your immune system is overreacting. It’s also possible that the antibiotics aren’t working as well with your physiology as we expected, but that really shouldn’t be the case. Either way, he said that we should keep you comfortable and try and bring your fever down––compresses, fluids, that sort of thing. And keep taking the antibiotics.”

“Did he sound worried?”

“No, not really.” Tony rested a hand on Peter’s forehead. “He said to call him in the morning if you’re not feeling better, or sooner if your fever keeps going up. Speaking of which, FRI?”

“103.7, boss,” she said. 

“Still too high,” Tony said with a frown.

“I might just need to sleep,” Peter said, head lolling on the towel. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I haven’t slept at all today.”

“You didn’t nap this afternoon?” Tony asked, frowning. 

Peter shook his head. “Just couldn’t settle down.”

“Do you think you’d sleep better in your room?”

“I don’t know.” Peter swallowed, wincing. He didn’t want to be alone, but maybe he would feel less anxious in his room. “Maybe,” he finally said, a little reluctantly. 

Tony stroked his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Why don’t you get out and we give it a shot?”

Peter nodded. He successfully managed to shove himself upright and climb out of the tub without incident. He wrapped himself up in one of the giant bath sheets from the heated towel rack, and went into the bedroom to pick out some clean pajamas. He chose his coziest PJ’s, the ones that Pepper had given him for Christmas morning last year. They had little Ironmans all over them. Morgan had a pair that matched. 

He realized then that Tony had never followed him out of the bathroom. Peter padded back in and found Tony dozing by the tub. Peter put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly. 

Tony blinked himself awake. “What? Oh. Peter. What happened?”

“I think you dozed off.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Peter said. “But you probably shouldn’t fall asleep here.”

“No, definitely not.” Tony stood up, steadying himself against the wall. 

Peter watched him, frowning. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, pressing the heel of his hand against his head. “Just kind of woozy. I think I’ve been up too long. Maybe need more Advil.”

“God, we are such a disaster,” Peter sighed. “Come on, come lie down, I’ll go get it from the other room.” He pulled Tony’s arm across his shoulders and shuffled him out of the bathroom and into Peter’s own room. At least this spared him having to ask Tony to stay, Peter reflected; neither of them should be on their own. 

Tony sprawled out across Peter’s bed, mumbling something Peter couldn’t make out under his breath. Peter threw a spare blanket over him and stumbled out in search of the Advil and any other supplies they might need. It would suck to have to get up again in an hour or two for their prescriptions. 

He felt okay at first––not great, but steady enough. He got the tray Tony had used earlier, which had their prescriptions on it, and then he decided more tea was in order, and maybe some apple juice. He wanted Jello; May always made him raspberry Jello when he was sick. But that seemed like a _lot_ of work. The longer he was upright, the worse he felt. 

Within a few minutes, he’d managed to collect a pot of tea, two mugs, their prescriptions, and two bottles of water that he guessed they could refill in the bathroom. Peter frowned at the tray, trying to decide if he was missing anything. Advil, he remembered suddenly, and realized that the bottle was sitting on the end table by the sofa bed. 

He turned to get it and a wave of nausea and dizziness crashed over him. There were suddenly black spots obscuring his vision. 

He had to sit. The floor seemed closest. His legs folded like he was a marionette with all his strings cut. Even that was too much, so he lay down on the tile, looking up at the ceiling. 

This was... not great. Peter’s standards for bad situations were pretty high, but this still sucked hard. 

“Peter, your blood pressure has dropped precipitously,” FRIDAY said. “Do you need Mr. Stark?”

“No,” Peter mumbled. And then, begrudgingly, “Yeah.” 

“Peter?” Tony called a few seconds later. He was moving faster than Peter would’ve expected under the circumstances. “Peter, where are you?”

“Floor,” Peter said. 

Tony came around the kitchen island. Peter blinked up at him, aware of how pathetic he looked, lying on the floor of the kitchen. 

“Shit, kid,” Tony said. “What happened?”

“I got really dizzy,” Peter said. “Had to sit down. Then I had to lie down. But everything’s ready,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the tray, “if I can just... get up.”

Tony crouched down beside him. “ _Can_ you get up?”

“Dunno. Didn’t really want to try on my own.” Peter pushed himself up slowly, until Tony grabbed him under the arms and propped him up against the cabinets. “Is it still raining?” Peter asked. 

“Sleeting. Or freezing rain, one of the two.” 

“Gross.” And not good to fly in, either. 

“Yeah.” Tony sighed. He sat down next to Peter, back against the cabinet. “I think Pepper is probably going to have to stay in Manhattan.”

“Yeah.” Peter let his head fall back. “This is so stupid. I’m Spiderman. I’m not going to be defeated by strep throat.”

Tony laughed. 

Peter glared. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just—you are defeated, kid. Temporarily, anyway. You’ll get the upper hand, but I have news for you––we are sitting on the kitchen floor, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not a hundred percent sure how I’m getting up again. So, for the moment, I think we’re both pretty well defeated.”

Peter sighed. “Fine.”

“But that’s okay. I just think maybe we need a strategy, if Pepper isn’t going to make it back.”

“Hmm.” A strategy. A strategy felt like it was asking an awful lot. Thinking was not currently Peter’s strong suit. He stared blankly at the part of the living room he could see, with the pull-out sofa. It was just getting dark out, though the shitty weather meant that there was barely any change at all in the level of light. His head hurt something awful, and he really just wanted someone else to take care of everything. But that wasn’t an option. “I think we should stay in the living room,” he finally said. “Closer to the kitchen.”

“Yeah, me too,” Tony sighed. “But if you can’t sleep, we’ll try your room. I also think we should transfer as much stuff as we can over to the sofa. This up and down thing is killing us. Maybe that means Gatorade instead of tea. Or the Pedialyte we bought a metric ton of when Morgan was sick. And you need to eat something, you’re probably sick from low blood sugar on top of everything else.”

Peter didn’t want to eat anything, but he nodded. “Should we try to stand up, then?” he asked, without enthusiasm.

Tony hesitated. “In a minute,” he finally said. “Maybe two.”

“Two minutes,” Peter agreed, and tipped over so his head rested against Tony’s shoulder. 

It was more like twenty minutes before they managed to scrape themselves off the floor. Gathering supplies was a chore, but at last Tony was satisfied that neither of them would have to get up except to use the bathroom until Pepper was home again the next morning. 

Peter was too tired to be satisfied by anything at that point. He collapsed onto the pull-out and then was too tired to even straighten his own blankets out. Tony had to help him, which made Peter feel a little guilty. But somehow Tony wasn’t ready to keel over like Peter was. 

“Applesauce or pudding, your choice, kid,” Tony said, shoving a bowl in his direction. He’d brought the entire container of applesauce into the living room with them, along with a giant thing of chocolate pudding. Peter had the feeling that Bruce would not have approved, but Bruce wasn’t here. “You’ll feel better once you’ve got something in you.”

“Pudding, I guess.” Peter dumped some of it into the bowl and took a bite. It actually tasted pretty good, and it went down without irritating his throat. The first helping vanished, and he went back for seconds.

“Don’t overdo it,” Tony warned. 

“I won’t, I just didn’t realize I was so hungry.” 

Tony squinted at him. “You definitely look less like you’re about to pass right the fuck out.”

“Thanks,” Peter said around a mouthful of pudding. “You still look like shit.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Love you, too, kid.”

Peter grinned and bumped his shoulder. 

With two helpings of chocolate pudding in his stomach, Peter took his antibiotics and curled up contentedly in a nest of blankets next to Tony. They were squabbling about which _Star Trek_ to watch––since Tony had very wrong opinions about _Deep Space Nine_ ––when Tony’s phone rang. 

“Hey Pep,” Tony said through FRIDAY.

“Hi Pepper,” Peter said. 

“Hi, you two. How are you doing?” 

“Better, I think,” Tony said. “You’re going to be horrified by the state of the living room.”

“Have you nested?” she asked, sounding amused. 

“Basically,” Tony said. “Having to get up and down was kind of killing us.”

“I’m sorry for not being there,” she sighed. “And in fact, I was calling because I don’t think we’re going to make it back tonight.”

“We figured as much,” Tony said. 

“It’s okay, Pepper,” Peter added. “We’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“You do sound better,” she said. “I was pretty worried after I talked to you earlier.”

“I had pudding,” Peter said.

“Normally I would argue that pudding isn’t food, but under the circumstances, I won’t. I am bringing about six quarts of matzo ball soup back with me, though.”

“That sounds great, Pep, thanks,” Tony said. 

“Sleep well, you two.”

“You, too, Pep. Kiss Morgan for me.”

“And me,” Peter chimed in. 

“Love you,” Tony added. 

“Love you, too. Good night.” Pepper disconnected. 

Everything was quiet for a little while, aside from the sound of the sleet against the windows. Tony’s hand landed on the back of Peter’s head and stroked his hair. “You okay?” Tony asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter said sleepily, burrowing into the blankets. He rested his head against Tony’s hip. “You can put on _Next Gen_. I’m just gonna fall asleep.”

“Best thing for you,” Tony said, still carding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I’m right here if you need me.”

“Mmm,” Peter managed in reply. He didn’t even remember the end of the theme music. 

***

“Peeeeeeter. Peeeeeeeeeeeeter.”

Peter kept his eyes closed. He was warm and sleepy and very comfortable, and whoever was trying to wake him up could wait. 

A very quiet giggle. And then a small, childish voice started singing, in a slow and frankly unnerving tempo.

_“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout_  
_“Down came the rain and washed the spider out”_

“Okay,” Peter said, opening his eyes. Morgan stared back at him, unblinking, from three inches away. “That is really creepy, kiddo.”

“I know,” she said smugly. 

“I know you know.” He moved over so she could clamber up on the bed. It was barely after six. Tony was still asleep, it seemed. “You and your mom just get back?”

“Yep.” Morgan climbed over him and dropped herself between Peter and Tony. “She said you and Daddy were a mess, and we needed to come take care of you as soon as possible.”

“We are a bit of a mess,” Peter admitted. “We did okay last night, though.”

“Did he say my school is a festering petri dish?”

“Those exact words, kiddo.”

Morgan heaved a sigh. “He’s right. School is the worst.”

Peter smiled. “You don’t like the other kids?”

“They’re boring. Soooooooo boooooorrrrring. And they think I’m strange.”

“Welcome to the club,” Peter said. “You come from a family of weirdos.”

“I guess. I like the art projects, though. Painting is fun.” Morgan touched his nose. “Sorry I made you sick.”

“That’s okay. You can make it up to me by watching _Inside Out_ with me this morning, how’s that sound?”

“That sounds good.” Morgan wriggled around. “Is Daddy sleeping?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Peter whispered back, though if Tony had managed to sleep through all that he’d be very impressed. “But why don’t you hang out with me for a bit, snuggle bug?”

“Okay,” Morgan said contentedly. Peter leaned back and she cuddled up close with her head under his chin. 

Pepper came in just as FRIDAY started the movie up, with a very promising deli bag in her arms. “Morgan,” she sighed when she saw them. “I told you to let Peter and Daddy sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said. “I think I was just about ready to wake up.”

Pepper didn’t look like she believed him. She set the bag on the counter and came over. She brushed Peter’s hair off his forehead with a practiced, parental gesture. “You want matzo ball soup for breakfast? Give me a couple hours and I’ll have raspberry Jello for you, too.”

“You talked to May?”

“I did. She sends her love and says she’ll see us all tomorrow night.” Pepper glanced at Tony. “Tony.”

“Mm,” Tony grunted.

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

Morgan giggled. Pepper smiled and ghosted her hand over Tony’s hair. Tony sighed and rolled onto his back, and then onto his other side, so that he was facing Peter and Morgan. “Hey, you two,” he said, eyes softening. “How’re you feeling, Pete? You sleep okay?”

“Like a log,” Peter said. “And yeah, I feel much better.”

“Temperature check, FRIDAY.” 

“Peter’s temperature is currently 101.6. Yours is 101.7 but should go down with ibuprofen. You are both due for your antibiotics.”

“Thanks, FRI. That’s much better,” Tony said, visibly relieved. 

“Yeah, I think we’re on the mend. Ugh,” Peter grunted, as Morgan elbowed him in the stomach. “Watch it, kiddo. You’ve got sharp corners.”

“You’re talking through the movie,” she scolded him, frowning. 

“You’ve seen _Inside Out_ at least a hundred times,” Tony told her as he pushed himself up to sit against the pillows. Peter shifted over so he was leaning against him. Morgan threw the upper half of her body onto Tony, so she was sprawled across both of them. “I know, because _I’ve_ seen it at least fifty.”

Morgan was apparently unmoved by that argument. “Shhhh,” she replied insistently. 

Tony grinned over her head at Peter. Peter smiled and rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, closing his eyes as the movie’s familiar, cheerful music played. He could hear Pepper in the kitchen, heating up soup and making Jello. Morgan was a heavy weight on Peter’s lap, and Tony’s shoulder was solid beneath him. 

“Peter, don’t fall asleep,” Morgan said, poking him. “You’ll miss the good part.”

“Never, kiddo,” Peter replied, dragging his eyes open. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_Fin._


End file.
